─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆
❛ Here we are at the end of the world, waiting for the sky to break into flames─but we are together, as if the stars had aligned. ❜
Percy Jackson never thought he would fall in love with a traitor.
[completed - editing]
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✩━━━ spring of 1996, matsuoka family home. ❝the silence of this night, the door in the darkness has opened.❞
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HIDDEN UNDERNEATH THE DINING ROOM TABLE, FIVE-YEAR-OLD HIKORI MATSUOKA LISTENED TO HIS PARENTS ARGUE OVER HIS HAPPINESS. His mother never approved of his favorite hiding spot before, claiming it is unclean and showed lack of manners, but lately, she stopped reprimanding him; she doesn't make him sit in the corner for playing too harshly with Naoki anymore, or discipline him for using his wings inside the house, or give him that disappointed stare that used to make Hiroki cry when he doesn't clean his toys after playing. He hasn't touched his toys in a long while, though, so it might be that.
His mother isn't the only one acting weird. A lot of things had changed after Yangyang died. His older brother even offered to play with him yesterday—something Naoki only agreements to when he's bored because as an older boy, he doesn't enjoy his baby brother's childish games anymore—but Hiroki refused and told him he wanted to sleep instead. His brother did not mock him for needing to take naps.
"He lost weight," Hisa listed, desperation masked as anger. "He refuses to go outside because he believes something will attack him. He doesn't sleep anymore, or—Or sleeps for days, Hypnos! He has nightmares." The tense silence that replaced his mother's usual sweet hums made the ache in Hiroki's chest worsen; he stayed quiet, barely breathing, as his mother's voice broke. "He tries to be quiet, but I hear him cry. I hear him cry every single day."
His father—the adult one, the one who has strong arms and fast legs that catch him within seconds when they play tag and the one who has the same nose and lips Hiroki sees each night when he brushes his teeth, but unlike him, this version of his father has curly white hair that's just like starlight, the color Hiroki wishes he had instead of his mother's, since Hiroki's wish is to be just like his father—replied quietly. "Children deal with trauma in different ways. There's no way to make him forget what he saw. I'm sorry, Hisa."
His father's tired voice made Hiroki hunch his shoulders.
That's another difference; his father never sounded unhappy before, either.
